Ab esse ad posse
by Chaed
Summary: COMPLETE After the Mansion Incident Wesker seeks Birkin’s help to understand the nature of the virus and its effects on the host.
1. Chapter I

**Ab Esse Ad Posse **

_By_: Chaed

_Rating_: T

_Disclaimer_: If Resident Evil belonged to me, do you think I'd write fanfiction?

_Summary_: After the Mansion Incident Wesker seeks Birkin's help to understand the virus and its effects on the host.

_A/N:_ 'ab esse ad posse' is latin and means from being to knowing (lit. from being to being able). This story may be read as stand alone for an analysis of the virus, however if you want to know about Ada's involvement and the previous happenings it is advisable to have a look at 'ab initio' and 'bene merenti'.

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Chapter I

They drove in silence, asfixiating silence that wrapped its invisible fingers around Ada's throat and clenched. She kept glancing into the rearview mirror, making sure that he was still there – alive – even though the many wounds on his body clearly spoke against survival.

The man in the backseat looked up, his usually omnipresent shades missing, so that, instead of the reflective glasses, his blue eyes locked with hers.

"Is anything the matter, Ada?" he asked and she thought the question had a mocking tone to it, but she probably interpretated it wrong due to the fact that there _was_ something wrong. Horribly wrong.

There was dried blood on his left temple, under his nose, on his chin. The blue standard STARS uniform that was ripped in the area of his abdomen, soaked with the crimson liquid that seemed to cover most of the man's surface. Wesker should be, for all intents and purposes, dead. Or at least on the brink of death.

She'd picked him up at the Arklay Labs approximately ten minutes ago, before the entire complex was annihilated by the activated self destruct system, initiated by no other than Wesker himself. Whatever had happened down there, it would probably remain a mystery forever, because she didn't think that he was intent on sharing the events.

Her eyes darted back to the road, because she couldn't bear looking him in the eyes any longer.

"Where are we driving?" she asked instead, the question having been on her mind for some time – though more prominent before Wesker had appeared. They would soon be out of the Arklay Forest and enter Raccoon City.

Wesker shifted in the back, trying to wipe off some of the blood from his face, but it was dry and he only managed to smear it more, giving his expression a macabre twist.

"There is an old warehouse located in the west of the city. Close to Umbrella's Raccoon plant. You need to drop me off there and pick somebody else up."

Ada briefly wondered whether the person Wesker spoke about was in someway skilled in the arts of medicine, because the first and foremost thing he needed was medical attention. She didn't even want to think about what would happen if he suddenly collapsed with both of them alone. Ada only knew so much about medicine to realize that she didn't know enough to be of any help and that wasn't going to suffice. She noticed how he barely moved and guessed it might be a precaution to further bloodloss. By the looks of it he might also suffer from a severe concussion, but she couldn't judge exactly how bad it was, and what complications it brought with it.

"There should be a first aid kit somewhere in the back," she offered, thinking it the best she could do at the moment.

Wesker didn't move, didn't even search for the object in question with his eyes. He was concentrating on the outside happenings and merely answered, "You need to pick up a man by the name of Dr. Birkin. He is the head researcher of the Raccoon Lab."

He paused at that, having Ada look into the mirror again, worried that he might have blacked out finally, even though his voice had sounded businesslike rather than on the verge of collapse.

Wesker was fine and continued speaking, "Request admittance by using your inside contact, Howe, and then proceed. Avoid talking with anybody, but don't be suspiscious. Birkin will probably be on the second sublevel, Lab 03-AV. Tell him it's an emergency and if he's reluctant to follow, mention my name."

Ada stopped breathing unconsciouly when Wesker mentioned John Howe. The man had been her fallback option should she have to renounce Wesker's help in the future and had done her best to keep her relationship with the researcher secret. How Wesker knew about it was another questionmark that she automatically moved to the never-to-be-solved compartment of her mind.

"Okay," was the only answer she could formulate at the moment, the sensation in her gut coming back that told her something was definitely wrong and she was driving right into it.

At 4am in the morning, Raccoon's streets were as empty as those of a ghost town and traffic was literally non-existant. The ride to the warehouse didn't need more than another five minutes and Ada was curious as to how the 'drop off' would commence and whether Wesker would need any assistance in getting out of the car, or getting to his feet again altogether.

She could only guess the amount of blood that was on his uniform rather than in his body and it was alarmingly big, letting her wonder whether he was still actively losing it, or if it had already started clotting and the blood vessels healing. That was impossible though, and she knew that alone by looking at the wound on his torso that any doctor would immediately agree with her. Wesker's hand that was pressed on the injury was soaked with the substance, but it seemed to Ada as if it was old blood, rather than fresh, wet liquid pouring from the wound.

She stopped before the grey building that wasn't any fancier than a big, grey block of concrete, a pair of great hangar gates on the front side and a small door located beside them. When she heard the clicking of a door being opened, Ada turned around completely watching in awe as Wesker emerged from the car as if nothing was wrong at all.

Before closing the door he said, "Be quick about it," then straightened, one hand still on his stomach, apparently waiting for her to leave. There was no notion of pain in his voice, of distress, and she guessed he must still be in shock, that by the time she had gotten this Birkin guy they would find him collapsed on the floor, dead… or something along those lines.

Ada gave him an odd look, making her hair stand on edge, which was usually a sign of danger, but hit the gas nonetheless observing the shadowy figure for a moment or two before turning into one of the side streets and headed towards the nearby located Laboratory.

The Raccoon plant was really only a few blocks further away and by the time she had reached the building with the big Umbrella logo on it Ada was already scrambling for a little item in the glove box. She eventually retrieved an identification pass the size of a credit card. The picture on it was horrible; it had been taken after a rather adventurous mission and Ada looked the part on the image. The card showed her Umbrella ID – 134675 – and certified that she was an agent of the company. Contrary to Wesker's card though – so she believed at least – she didn't have access to every building and security level. Luckily she had visited John Howe before and the guard at the entrance should recognize her, even though 4am in the morning might be quite the unusual time to visit one's partner, not to mention that she couldn't memorize John's working hours. There was always the chance that he wasn't here at all.

Ada didn't even take the pistol with her. Weapons were not allowed within the laboratories unless carried by the security guards or other special operatives. And John thought she was only a secretary anyway. She strolled towards the building, doing a tolerable job at hiding the time pressure she was under. Showing the guard at the entrance her ID card he let her pass after a scrutinizing glare and a questioning expression. Working hours only started at six. She mumbled that she needed to prepare something and was granted entrance at last.

The Raccoon Lab had three sublevels. On the first those pharmaceutical products were designed, that Umbrella used as decoy. The remaining two levels were dedicated entirely to the development of the G-virus. It was a derivant of the less powerful T-virus and Birkin was the head researcher.

She was familiar enough with the facility to find her way to the first elevator that was guarded by another officer. He inspected her card and upon approval the elevator doors opened, bringing Ada closer to her goal. Umbrella was very cautious nowadays and Ada was already thinking of a way to get past the second guard. This would prove harder, since her ID restricted further passage.

The elevator doors opened with a cheerful beep that seemed wrong in this place like Ada felt. She walked down the corridor in the fastest pace she could manage without being suspicious. The hallways were empty, her steps echoing loudly. Most staff was still at home and those researchers that worked through were holed up in their labs and stared through microscopes.

Ada turned left twice and then right, almost in a run now. She only had one chance to get past the guard.

"Ma'am, slow down!" the man infront the elevator said, holding out a warning hand and positioning himself in order for his body to block the passage.

"You must let me through!" she begged, desperately fumbling for her card, "My boyfriend – John Howe – his sister! There was a car crash…. please let me through, she needs his help!" Ada shook the ID infront of the guard's nose, without directly handing it to him. She was doing her best as damsel in distress, but the man wasn't impressed yet.

"Ma'am, calm down…. let me see your card fi-"

"-_there's no time_! She's on the brink of death, it might be his last chance to see her! Please! The lab he works in is right beside the elevator, I need to get him!"

"I can call him up for you." the guard offered, but Ada acted before he could move a finger. She brought up one long leg, kicking the man directly in the chin, rendering him either unconscious or dead. He slumped to the ground without another sound and Ada prayed that the researchers were too absorbed in their work to have heard her little escapade.

"I said I'm going down there myself," she whispered more to herself than to the immobile guard. The elevator was up in a moment and Ada dragged the dead weight inside. Umbrella had no cameras installed within the lifts themselves and she hoped that the employee supervising the security monitors was as sloppy as in the movies.

She reached the second sublevel with another happy sound as the doors opened and it took Ada no more than a split second to find Birkin's lab on the map attached to the wall beside the elevator. It was located just down the hall, to the right, third door on the left.

She was there in no time, but stopped herself before bolting in and blurting out 'Wesker needs your help'. That wasn't very professional, it was dumb at most. Wesker was a dead man to the outside world and Birkin could be working with ten more people in there. She couldn't risk to spill the milk, otherwise Wesker would make sure he didn't miss her head when pulling the trigger and Ada was, quite honestly, very attached to it.

After knocking two times she opened the door carefully, opting to use her decoy as secretary and call the scientist away for some organisatory reason.

The room was white, that kind of sterile color one always imagined hospitals to be like. A huge table stood in the middle, stacked with microscopes, reports and many other utensils Ada couldn't name. In front of one of the microscopes sat a blonde man, who turned around at the sound of the opening door. He was alone.

She didn't know whether this was who Wesker had asked for, but the researcher sitting in the middle of the room looked overworked, derived of sleep and the artifical light dipping his skin in a pale color that made him look almost sickly.

"Dr. Birkin?"

"Yes, what do you want?" the tone in his voice made clear that he didn't appreciate the interruption.

"Wesker needs your help," she blurted out and slapped herself silently for doing exactly what she had promised herself to avoid.

But the method worked. The look in Birkin's eyes changed at once, though Ada couldn't say whether they mirrored worry or something else… something more fearful. The man shot up in a second, all work forgotten and Ada wondered whether he was a friend of Wesker's to abandon his business so willingly. Over time she had learned from John that Umbrella scientists were very absorbed in their work, up to the point where fascination yielded to fanatism.

"What happened?" he demanded.

"He… – I don't know, but he needs medical attention."

Birkin's eyes opened even wider, accentuating the dark rings beneath. With a whispered 'God…' he turned around and assessed one of the many drawers in the room, retrieving a small bag and started stuffing it with anything and everything that was lying around. She recognized bandages, a handful of phials (though she couldn't read the labels), some matching syringes and a handful of other items Ada didn't know of. When she thought he was finished he proved her wrong by gripping one of the smaller microscopes and pushing it into her hands.

"Hold this," he instructed. He seemed to have regained at least a little composure, "Where is he?"

"Follow me," she said and began to lead the way back to the elevator, almost breaking into a run. There was no need for being cautious anymore, she had William Birkin, the head researcher on her heels. If something happened, he could sort it out.

They reached the elevator in no time and Ada prayed that nobody else had made use of it meanwhile. It turned out that nobody had. The guard was still slumped against the lift wall and earned her a wary look from Birkin.

"Who are you?" he asked as he stepped into the elevator.

"I'm working with Wesker," she said, not in the mood for longwinded introductions. This wasn't the time and Birkin seemed to understand.

The elevator came to a halt after what seemed like an eternity and the unlikely pair made their way to the surface, passing the remaining guards without further complications. They asked no questions as they recognized Birkin and didn't even give the microscope in her hands an odd look. She wondered why Birkin had insisted on taking that one along though. She doubted that Wesker was in the mood for sharing his colleague's newest discoveries at the moment.

When they reached the car Ada handed Birkin the microscope and started up the engine, wasting no time to buckle up anymore. The warehouse was three streets down and Raccoon's residents were all sleeping.

"Oh god, is that his blood?" Birkin suddenly asked, bewilderment evident in his voice. Ada looked into the rearview mirror and noticed the many – or rather the one huge stain on the backseat, where Wesker had sat.

"Yeah," she confirmed.

"Did you get a glance at his injuries? Was he still conscious, able to speak? Did he slur the words? Unintellegible talk, uncoordinated movements?"

Ada thought for a moment and all of Birkin's comments fit Wesker's situation perfectly. In such a state nobody could behave otherwise, only worse perhaps.

"No," she said eventually, taking a left turn," He seemed fine… a little distant perhaps. But he's got blood all over him – he might have a concussion - and he covered his stomach with his hand. He told me he was shot… among others and that I needed to get you – we're there."

She pulled the car beside the warehouse entrance, somehow relieved not to have found Wesker in the middle of the street, dead or unconscious. Birkin didn't ask anymore questions, merely opened the door and followed Ada to the small door that Wesker had probably entered through. A massive chain with a lock attached to it had been thrown on the ground carelessly and Ada noted that not the lock was opened, but the chain itself broken. She dismissed the thought of searching for an answer and pushed the door open, Birkin close behind.

The massive hall was sparsely lit, just enough as not to trip over something. Huge crates were stacked all over, giving the building an eerie athmosphere. A layer of dust covered most surfaces.

"Wesker?" she called and her voice was carried into every corner of the room.

They heard the steps and then he came into their sight, azure eyes sparkling in the blackness like the first rays of sun at the beginning of the day for a moment. Behind her Birkin stopped, frozen, like somebody would have pushed the off button on him. Wesker was staring at both of them intently, somehow still managing to stand upright despite his wounds and the only thing Birkin managed to say was,

"Where are your glasses?"

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**And that was the first chapter of a new story! Welcome back to the readers who've followed this series until now and just welcome to those who found their way here only now. This is a continuation of Bene Merenti and Ab Initio, but it's okay if you haven't read those and just came here for an explanation of the virus. I'll make this story understandable even if you didn't read the previous ones.**

**Which brings me to: If you have any questions about Wesker's mysterious virus, be it (side) effects, benefits, alternations, or whatever else comes to your mind - ask away, and I'll incorporate it into this story!**

**Another note I'd like to add is that I won't update this so quickly as the other fics. I find it quite hard to write this with all the revelations, but then again not giving away too much. But I'll add a new chapter at least once a week, so never worry!**

**A feedback? Critism? Flame me like you never flamed before. Or just tell me how cool a character Wesker is.**


	2. Chapter II

Chapter II

The following silence was unbearable, partly because everybody waited for someone else to begin and because the majority of people – namely Ada and Birkin – couldn't stop staring at Wesker's bloodsoaked form, comparable to two little children who watched TV and saw something unbelievable.

Eventually, it was Wesker who broke the silence. His voice was deep, calm, but it sent a chill down Ada's spine nonetheless.

"They were lost during the mission," he stated, refering to the absent sunglasses, that had grown to look so normal on him that Ada got the impression that he somehow seemed incomplete without them.

Birkin suddenly stepped forward, having recovered from his trance, hurrying over to where Wesker stood. He mumbled something under his breath and repeatedly shook his head, but Ada could only discern fragments of his words. 'what did you…', '…god…', '…this can't be…'

On the other side of the room Wesker fumbled for something in his vest pocket. Ada couldn't make out what it was exactly, but like everything else on the man it was clad in a crimson coat. It looked like a paper, some parchment, perhaps even just a bloody handkerchief. Wesker was holding it up for the approaching Birkin to see, in an accusing manner.

When he realized what it was, the doctor stopped in mid-stride, as if having collided with an invisible wall. He was still a few feet away from the other man. Ada decided to keep her distance. Better safe than sorry.

"I need an explanation," Wesker demanded briskly, "you need to explain this."

Ada wondered when the STARS commander would finally faint because of the bloodloss. Birkin was still frozen, unable to give any form of comment.

"Explain it," Wesker insisted, demonstratively waving the paper in the air in one short movement. His eyes pierced through the darkness. The blood on his face gave him a demonic appearance. He took a step forward, looming over the shocked figure of Birkin, "_Explain it_!"

Ada didn't think she'd ever heard Wesker yell, at least not with this undercurrent in his voice. She took a step backward, from the corner of the eye estimating the distance to the door. She didn't want to be a nuisance in this reunion and Wesker's behaviour plainly scared her. He might be finally losing it. Ada didn't want to be present when it happened.

"It would have been suicide," Birkin's small voice suddenly tore through the silence like a chainsaw. Ada didn't know what he was talking about but she had figured out as much as that he was somehow connected to the paper in Wesker's hand.

"No," Wesker dissented sharply, "it wasn't."

"I need to have a look at your wounds," Birkin urged.

Then Ada's heart stopped all of a sudden, because Wesker glared at _her_, "Wait outside," he ordered and the invitation couldn't have come at a better time. Though Ada's curiosity was nagging, the tension in the room was suffocating and she badly needed a deep breath of fresh air. Not to mention that she didn't want to test Wesker's patience now.

Ada retreated, unconsciously giving Birkin a pitying look. The man was in for trouble if Wesker didn't fall over dead soon. Perhaps he had done something wrong to raise the STARS captain's anger, but she didn't think he'd get away with just being yelled at.

She was out of the warehouse before either of the men could say or do anything else. However, Ada left the door ajar and she could still catch parts of Wesker's and Birkin's talk, partially because both of their voices echoed through the great hall.

"You need medical attention."

"You know better than that, William," the words were no more than a hiss and Ada had troubles to hear them at all, but the voice was clearly Wesker's.

"Let me look at it," Birkin pleaded, "you might have a concussion. The woman said you've been shot."

"You know it doesn't matter, William. I want an explanation, that's all I need."

There was silence then and Ada was tempted to peek through the gap and see what was going on. Then there was a clattering sound – perhaps Birkin dropping his bag, perhaps Wesker dropping Birkin's dead body – then a sigh.

"Are you sure?" – it was Birkin's voice – "are you sure it's all gone?"

Another movement, steps this time, "The Tyrant impaled me. Its claw went through me, through my body. I tasted the blood. I felt the torn flesh – I touched my organs, tried to push them back inside, everything was broken. It should have snapped my spine in two, William, you _know_ that. But I'm standing here, in front of you, and if nothing else, you owe me an answer to all the questions."

"God…" Birkin said and Ada had to restrain herself not to do the same. What had Birkin done?

"I need an explanation," Wesker repeated. Meanwhile, Ada needed one too.

"It would have been suicide. You were walking into death's open arms, but you didn't _see_ it. I had to do something!" Birkin's voice had a ring of panic to it, "You couldn't have died because of such a foolishness, you wouldn't have deserved to end that way! There's still so much unfinished work…," – _get to the point_, Ada urged in her thoughts, "it was a deviant that emerged in one of the experiments…but then there was the breakthrough with the G-virus and I put it aside, not bothering to make a big deal out of it. The G-virus has so much more potential-"

"-I need to know of its exact effects, _doctor_," the last word was stressed in a warning tone.

"It enchances your healing metabolism, tenfold, for the moment…" Birkin's voice grew quieter and Ada cursed the scientist silently. She couldn't understand his words anymore.

"So you say that its effects were only momentary?" Wesker inquired, thankfully in a louder tone.

"Yes," Birkin said, barely audiable again. Ada's eyes shifted to the ground. She wasn't looking at anything in particular, but was rather trying to concentrate harder on listening. So it was by chance at most that Ada's eyes locked on the rusty chain that lay broken at her feet.

She still caught Wesker's 'I don't think so' and Birkin insisting on examining the injuries, but meanwhile something else had caught Ada's attention. She picked the chain up, a little surprised by its heavy weight. Massive iron, the old kind. The lock was immense for its kind, at least so big as Ada's fist. It had already seen many winters, but still seemed sturdy enough to do its job about protecting the warehouse from burglars.

The lock wasn't even the problem, because that was still whole. The chain had been severed, as Ada had noted when they had first entered the building. However, back then she had thought that it had been cut with some kind of utensil, a saw perhaps, but now she knew better. It hadn't been cut at all.

It had been ripped.

At the weld seam. Not cut. Ripped. She could tell that by the way the metal was bent. To buckle such a material an enormous force was needed. A car perhaps, or a truck.

Ada wondered whether Wesker had known that the door to the warehouse had been open. It had to have been open when they had first arrived already, even though she couldn't remember seeing the chain on the floor. Not that she had paid close attention to it. Wesker had been her main concern back then – he still was now, though for a slightly altered reason – she couldn't say whether the lock had been on or not.

It had to have been broken before their arrival. Wesker didn't have the necessary means to break it, nor was he in any condition to do so, even if he had had the tools.

Ada discarded the broken chain again, putting the problem away as solved. She brushed the dirt off her hands on her jeans. Wesker had his contacts, he had probably gotten wind of the warehouse, just as he had learned of Ada's relationship with John. Wesker was probably picking up such facts like normal people watched the weather news in the morning. She should finally stop being surprised about his knowledge.

"I need to run a test to see if you're positive," those words brought her back to reality and Ada realized that she'd been out for a few minutes. She hadn't followed the discussion anymore, but judging by the muffled tone of the voice Birkin was the speaker.

"It's a waste of time. I didn't get into direct contact," Wesker's voice seemed strained, as if he was tired of his comrade's constant requirements already.

"What about the T-002? You said it touched you." 'Touched' was probably an understatement given Wesker's previous recap of the events that had occurred at the Mansion – or more specifically beneath it.

"It is only transferred through bodily fluids. Saliva, blood... It swiped at me, it didn't kiss me," Wesker was beginning to lose his patience. Ada could tell by the edgy tone of his voice aswell as by his choice of words. Wesker only tended to be sarcastic when he was running low on tolerance. Ada had learned to interpretate it as a kind of warning. She knew that it was better to cut the line before it was too late.

Those who'd seen Wesker lose his temper, avoided provoking him again. He would raise his voice, but that was the least of it. Wesker wasn't a man to raise his hand though. He had finer methods to show his subordinates that their doings were wrong; or at least against his will.

"Damn, it _impaled_ you!" Birkin's voice was a low hiss, "transmission is possible, you know that!"

There was silence. Ada was once more tempted to peek around the corner and actually see what was going on.

"With its claw, not with its teeth," Wesker defended his theory, even though the pause before his statement didn't help much.

Ada wondered whether he was just saying 'no' because it was shorter than 'yes', or whether Birkin was indeed correct and Wesker was just denying the truth. Then again, she couldn't imagine Wesker to be the type of person to run away from facts. He would accept them, deal with them, and then somehow use them to his benefits.

But Birkin wasn't a complete idiot either. He was head researcher of one of Umbrella's most important branches and probably knew more about biochemics and histology than Ada could ever comprehend. Birkin wasn't talking nonsense. He had a point.

"I need to test you," Birkin said.

Ada held her breath.

"I need to test you," Birkin said again.

She could hear her own heartbeat in her ears.

But Wesker didn't answer.

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**The second chapter is done. I hope you enjoyed it. I gave a hint or two about Wesker's now enchanced abilities, if you've noticed.**

**Next chapter: We'll see whether the silence at the end meant that Wesker's trying to dispose of Birkin... or something else.**

**Stay tuned, and... review, please! It'd mean a lot to me!**


	3. Chapter III

Chapter III

Wesker's survival was not what had startled Birkin so. He would have thought the STARS captain to be capable of crawling his way out of the Arklay Labs if it had to be. He could image Wesker killing the BOWs with his bare hands to escape the unavoidable fate.

Wesker would have survived either way. He was right. It had been no suicide mission, at least not for a man like him. But Birkin had had to say something and infuriating the man was not very recommandable now, not in this state.

Because it was not his cheat on death that troubled Birkin, it was rather the psychological repercussions of the serum that seemed to take effect on his colleague. Which had been – he had to admit that – left out of consideration when he had decided to include the vial in the box of sedatives.

It had never been used on a human host before, thus making it hard for Birkin to estimate its exact ramifications. One thing was certain though, and that was the noticable change in different aspects of Wesker's personality.

He couldn't say whether the alternation was only momentary, or simply a result of the incredible stress Wesker had been exposed to at the Mansion, but the heightened irritability and loss of patience were evident. Whether their roots lay with the STARS commander's mission of his self administration of the serum, Birkin could not say. At least not yet. But as with all scientific discoveries the only way to find out was to observe and whether Wesker noticed it or not, he was doing exactly that. Observing.

Over the years Birkin had mastered the art of reading – at least between the lines – Wesker's mood, despite the sunglasses that shielded the man's expression from outer view. Now though, without the shades, Wesker looked like a dangerous animal only waiting to be provoked into ripping apart its prey.

It was one of the behaviour patterns they'd determined in the early experiments with the Progenitor and all of its derivants. Wesker might deny it, might be ignorant of the fact, but they both knew that his mood could be the result of something different than the immense stress at the Mansion.

"Quit looking at me like that," Wesker suddenly said, making him blink.

"What?"

"Don't look at me like that. I'm not one of your experiments."

"I need to run a test to see if you're positive," Birkin said.

Wesker moved his hand in a declining fashion and shook his head. The movement gave Birkin a slight glimpse at the other man's abdomen, if only briefly. From what he could see, the skin beneath the uniform was still – or once again – intact, despite the smears of blood on its surface, but Birkin gathered that that must have come off the fabric.

"It's a waste of time. I didn't get into direct contact," Wesker controverted flatly.

"What about the T-002? You said it touched you!" Birkin argued, still careful not to infuriate the STARS captain to the extent of bringing him on the 'no'-track. Despite his apparent emotional instability Wesker was still capable of logical thought and reasoning. He just had to realize the danger - was bound to do so - especially when it was so apparent.

"It's only transferred through bodily fluids – blood, saliva. It swiped at me, it didn't kiss me."

What was Wesker trying to do – indoctrinate Birkin of a better, when both of them knew that all of the causes he had just listed probable?

"Damn, it _impaled_ you!" Birkin hissed impatiently, "Transmission is possible, you know that."

Why was Wesker so blind?!

"With its claw, not with its teeth!" Wesker retorted, raising his voice. For a moment the thought occurred to Birkin that the asian woman outside, who'd come to get him from the Raccoon Plant could probably hear them, but it was only of secondary importance.

"I need to test you," he said again in a more composed voice.

Wesker remained silent and it was hard not to break away from the icy glare of the STARS commander. Even Birkin, who'd worked with him a good many years was not accustomed to the sheer power the absence of the shades caused. The glasses had had a power of their own. They had always made Wesker appear untouchable, distant, calculating, cunning.

Without them Birkin felt exposed. He felt exposed to Wesker's stare, knew exactly that the man was watching every bead of sweat that was forming on Birkin's forehead. He thought that Wesker's eyes had much more of an impact than the sunglasses had.

People always said that the eyes represented a person's soul. It sounded corny, but it might have been true. For Wesker, it wasn't. Or – perhaps it was. But Birkin could never stand looking into his eyes long enough to find out.

"I need to test you," he repeated, focusing on the torn STARS uniform. It was completely shredded in the area of Wesker's abdomen, hanging in bloody tatters. Unfortunately it also covered the wounds – or remains of that – and Birkin could not allocate them exactly. But there was definitely no intestine protruding, no ruptured muscle, or torn vessels. There was only skin covered in blood – wet, dry, light and dark, all imaginable forms of blood.

Then Wesker moved one arm forward. Birkin was about to take a step backward in response, but as he realized that the hand didn't shoot up to his throat, but that Wesker was merely extending an arm and rolled up the sleeve, his tension eased.

"Do it, if it pleases you," he said and Birkin didn't waste anymore time.

He extracted a syringe and a rubber band from the bag he'd brought, aswell as a phial with a bluish fluid in it. The latter was an indicator used by Umbrella to test the existance of any of the viruses of the Progenitor branch. Since all were derivants of the mother virus, the indicator worked for both the T and G-virus. It was the fastest method to detect an infection.

In its earlier days, when Umbrella didn't react to outbreaks with a lock-down of the entire facility, it had been used to discern the virus in both subjects and scientists who accidentally been infected. Back in the good old days, when the majority of staff had still been optimistic about their employers.

Birkin looked at Wesker for approval before applying the band to the man's arm. Wesker's biceps was incredibly tense and Birkin said, "Relax."

He reached for the syringe and brought it towards Wesker's arm, but suddenly a hand closed around his, restraining him. He looked up into cobalt eyes.

"After this, I want answers." The strong fingers losened their grip again.

While pulling the blood into the syringe Birkin noticed that this was the closest he had approached Wesker since the Mansion Incident. He noticed that he could smell the blood, the guts – even if only faintly.

Wesker didn't say another word as Birkin extracted the needle from his skin again, merely pulled down the bloody sleeve cover his arm.

Birkin discarded the needle from the syringe, pausing a moment before merging the blood with the indicator. If his worries proved true, if the test turned out to be positive, what was he going to do? What was Wesker going to do – because clearly, he could not ignore a fact such as this. Birkin didn't know how he would react. He just couldn't guess.

Instead he simply poured the blood into the phial with the indicator. There was no sense in trying to interpret the future. He would be powerless to change it, if it decided to turn against him.

He stared at the little glas expectantly, knowing that Wesker did the same. The process was very simple – working like a common chemical indicator. If the special substance that was integrated into any of the viruses was present, the bluish liquid would take on a green color.

Both man waited on the outcome.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, the little vial in Birkin's hand marked a milestone in both of their lives – and they knew that it would affect not only them, but the whole world.

The substance turned green.

Wesker said, "This is impossible."

Birkin regarded the phial and in the best scientific tone he could muster, answered calmly, "No. You're positive."

* * *

**hides Don't hit me! The thoughts rushing through your mind now are understandable, but believe this one thing I say: I won't pull off a second Alice. So calm down, Wesker might be infected, but I'll explain the situation with more brains than the script writers of the movies, and despite the fact that his infection is something completely different from Super-Alice's 'the T-virus bonded with her on a cellular level' crap, I think this will actually be believable.**

**BUT**

**I would really appreciate your feedback! Let me know whether I'm writing crap and should better stop before dragging Wesker's secret into the dirt, or if you'd like to know more about it. The only possibility to write this story to your liking is through communication, people. If you let me know what you want to read, you will read that - if not, well... then you'll read more out of my twisted imagination, lol.**


	4. Chapter IV

Chapter IV

Once more silence settled in the room and the only thing that moved was the soft summer breeze outside, stroking across the tinroof of the warehourse. Both men had lost the ability to convert their emotions into words and were left to express their unbelief by staring at the little vial with the green liquid (that should be blue) in Birkin's hands.

Wesker was the first to act, though that wasn't a surprise. Birkin had thought about the possibility of infection before, but had never actually considered what course of action to take should the test turn out positive – which it unfortunately had. He found himself in momentary shock, as if he was frozen in place, barely being able to heave and lower his chest enough for air to fill his lungs and supply his brain with enough oxygen to process the just obtained information.

Then Wesker's hand shot up to grab his throat and before Birkin could object he was pushed against a wall, lifted off the ground. The little vial containing the life-changing green substance had slipped out of his hand and spilled on the floor. For a moment he wondered how a color of all things could be so important, then pushed the thought aside and clawed at Wesker's steel hand that kept squeezing around his throat.

"What was that?!" Wesker bellowed. His voice was carried across the entire hall, "What did you do?!"

Birkin wanted to answer, but he couldn't get any air and the prominent thought in his mind was how strong Wesker was, how easily he'd lifted him off the ground, and that ten years as STARS captain had paid off in more than one way.

"Answer me!" the man in front of him demanded, increasing the force on Birkin's throat. He was coercing the researcher into looking directly at him, made sure that their eyes locked. Birkin thought the early light played a strange trick on Wesker's eyes, because for one moment they flared in a dangerous red before reverting back to their natural azure color. It must be the way the light broke on his retina, but as important the thought had been a second ago, Birkin thought it didn't make any sense to analyze such things when you were strangled.

"Please…" he managed to squeal, still trying to do away Wesker's grip, but he was too strong.

In response to his plea the STARS commander eased the force and Birkin's feet touched the ground again. He waited for Wesker to take away his hand completely, but it remained there.

"Talk," he said and it sounded so emotionless as if robot had spoken the words. It was probably the way the police treated criminals, a tone Wesker had aquired over the years. There was no motion in his facial expression, not even a twitch. He was completely still, apart from his eyes, which seemed to pierce into Birkin's own – beyond that, searching for the answer their owner so dearly desired.

"I… you, you're positive…you're infected," it was incredibly hard to mutter these words. He felt so extremely exposed, under pressure, both from Wesker's presence aswell as from his previous maltreatment of Birkin's throat.

"Don't pull this _shit_ on me, William!" Wesker yelled and he was indeed furious. Wesker only cursed when he was very, very angry and Birkin didn't know whether to feel proud or afraid that he had pushed the man to such an extreme.

The hand closed around his throat again and Birkin felt a second's panic rise up his spine, nesting somewhere in the back of his mind so it could nudge him whenever it wanted.

"Don't – don't – the Tyrant! The Tyrant must have gotten you!" Birkin said hurriedly, thinking of the right words that would make Wesker stop to push. His hands were shaking, if only slightly, but they were hanging at his sides uselessly, not even trying to withstand Wesker's assault.

"I told you I didn't get into contact!"

"It must have been wounded – perhaps it was only dirt – God, let me go, damnit!" he didn't think about what he was yelping, he just wanted to get free, away from Wesker's suffocating grip, they could talk it out like civilized people –

"Is everything alright in here?" it was the asian woman. From the corner of his eye Birkin could see her form in the doorway, but she didn't approach further. Her tone had been unsure, cautious.

Wesker's hand was gone in an instant and Birkin nearly believed that he was going to take off after her, but instead he just looked her way, completely still, seeming to have regained control again.

"I told you to wait outside," he said in the calmest way he could muster, but Birkin could hear the rage seething beneath it, "Go outside."

It didn't take more to convince her and they were once again alone, though by her brief appearance the woman had probably saved Birkin's life.

"I was unconscious," Wesker suddenly said, but contrary to Birkin's assumptions that he would start yelling again as soon as the woman was out of the door, his voice was cool.

Birkin decided to approach the problem with equal calmness and asked, "How long?"

"Five minutes, seven at most. It couldn't have happened while I was out."

"Why not?" he was walking on thin ice by asking this, and hoped he hadn't gone too far for the ice to break again.

"During its activation I was not the only person in the room. Another member from STARS was present. The Tyrant must have taken off after him. It wouldn't bother any longer than necessary with a broken body and contrary to the G-infected hosts it feels no need to reproduce either. It had no reason to infect me."

Birkin was about to remind him that 'reason' was no valid argument, but then it suddenly deemed on him and he said, "But it killed the other agent, didn't it? Did you have to pass it when you regained consciousness?"

Until now Wesker had focused his sight on the floor, but now his hand suddenly came up again – Birkin was prepared to sprint, if necessary – but instead he just brushed it through his damp and sticky hair.

"It wasn't there when I woke up."

Birkin stared.

"What?"

"It was gone."

"You mean… you mean it survived?"

Wesker shook his head, "Impossible. It must have been killed during the self destruction."

Unfortunatly, many things they had thought impossible before had proved to be otherwise in the previous ten minutes, but Birkin wasn't going to contradict Wesker's judgement for now. There was something else on his mind.

"Why did it leave, though? It had no reason to move from its position after it took out the other STARS member. The rest of the facility, I presume, was crowded with carriers and it bears no grudges against its own kind."

"Redfield wasn't there anymore either," Wesker admitted, "he must have fled while the Tyrant attacked me and it probably took off after him."

Redfield was probably the name of the other STARS member, but Birkin didn't like to hear of his flight. In the end he must have died too, and that cheased some of his worries. Birkin decided not to dwell on that matter.

"Was the T-002 in its stasis tank?"

"Yes."

"Did you extract it yourself, or…?"

"No, it trashed at the glass and then…," he was still. Birkin could only imagine what happened afterwards.

"It might have been one of the shards," he offered, even if it was only one possibility out of many. But at least it was one more than they had had a few minutes ago.

Wesker didn't say anything else. He didn't look shocked, nor desperate. He was simply standing there, thinking. Probably thinking of how he was going to turn into a mindless creature, whose only want was to eat without really knowing why. Birkin decided to be silent too, mainly because he didn't know what to say. 'Sorry' seemed unfitting somehow and 'it'll pass' was wrong in this case.

"I can't believe this," Wesker said. Birkin couldn't either, but it was easier to get used to the unbelievable if it didn't affect yourself, "I need to look at a sample. The indicator might have been wrong. A fake."

The chance was minimal, literally non-existant. "I have one of the portable microscopes," Birkin said and pointed to the object in question. He wished that his intuition to take it along had been wrong.

Wesker nodded. Birkin allowed himself to step away and rumage the bag for the object slides he had brought. He took one and put a drop of the remains from the syringe on it, fixing it under the microscope, which he had placed on one of the nearby crates. Wesker had watched his every action, but hadn't said another word.

Now he stepped up to the prepared microscope and turned on its integrated lamp that shone through the sample and made it visible on a lightmicroscopic level. He adjusted several buttons, levers and switches until he had the image he wanted.

Birkin stood beside Wesker and unconsciously observed him. He wondered when the first effects of the virus would arise. The itchiness. Dellusion, dehydration, fever. Later, loss of motoric control, of speech. Birkin had seen it happen often. Until now Wesker showed no sign, but that was soon to change.

Then Wesker said, "I think you should have a look at this," and the expression on his face added, "You had better know what it is."

* * *

**Glad ya all took so well to the bad news of the infection. Unlike Wesker we know what's going to happen (and what not) so this is the explanation for his...hm...how to call it - 'unsure' moment? It definitely wasn't weakness (I mean, he isn't weak!), but I guess that there have been some thoughts going on in his head about turning into a zombie. He does know that something isn't normal about him (the strength, the wounds, etc.) but he definitely doesn't know as much as I do, hehe. Yet.**


	5. Chapter V

Chapter V

In the multiple amplification of the microscope Birkin witnessed an ordeal of life and death that was impossible to comprehend. Its existance alone was absurd, so why should he understand it?

Perhaps because a bigger part of what he was observing here loomed behind him and waited for him to raise from the microscope's ocular and explain the inexplicable. He knew it was what Wesker wanted. In a way, Birkin shared this urge for knowledge. Wesker's life might depend on his opinion. His own life might be at stake. If he didn't produce the answer the STARS commander wanted to hear, then he might have to endure another struggle.

And who could guess whether the asian woman would check up on them again? If he were in her place he wouldn't. They both knew that Wesker didn't tolerate when people went against his orders. He might be in a bad shape now – well was he? – but his eyes saw everything and his ears caught every hush. And he was angry. Who knew Albert Wesker knew that it was better not to stand in his way when he was in such a mood.

Cobalt eyes pierced into his back as Birkin regarded the happenings under the microscope. He was watching him. Waiting like a mountain-lion for the opportune moment to strike down its prey.

"Well?" he was impatient. His voice boiled with the emotion and it sent a chill down Birkin's spine.

He took a last look at the object slide containing the blood sample on it, then turned to Wesker and urged himself to resist the icy eyes. A flash of thought raced across his mind. It was irrational to grasp at such conclusions though. Wesker was only human. Not even he could read Birkin's thoughts.

He shook his head, braced himself for a blow, a world of darkness, or another yell. "I haven't seen anything like that before."

None of his apprehensions became reality. Wesker simply nodded and brushed a hand across the tattered STARS unifrom. The T had soaked with blood, blending in with the crimson color of the rest. It now formed the word SARS which reminded Birkin of the virus. It caused respiratory disease in humans. He had read about it in one of the reports, but ever since he had started working on the G-virus, nothing could really match its brilliance.

"I know," Wesker suddenly said, pulling Birkin back to reality.

"I think it's time for the answers, William. You had your pleasure, now let me have certainty." Certainty in what? In the fact that he was going to suffer the full effects of the T-virus sooner or later? Did he want an exact date, an hour on which he could wait for with dread. To keep track of time and know how much he still had left?

"What more is there to know? You're infected. I don't need to detail in what this will end, no matter what the microscope shows."

"There is always more to know. Start with that," he pointed a finger at the microscope. Birkin noted that it was bloody._ Because he constantly wipes at that uniform._

He turned to the item in question again, knowing that Wesker needed to have it done his way. He turned on the switch for the light and observed the happenings in the blood.

The T-virus usually nested in a cell, replacing the core with its own string of DNA and from there transferring itself to other cells, eventually infecting the entire host body. It was the common way a virus functioned. This was the reason why a single scratch was enough to start the irreversible procedure.

The drop of Wesker's blood held the answer to his future. Birkin concentrated on the image before him. There were the doughnout shaped erythrozytes, the small thrombozytes and the round leukozytes swimming in the cell plasma along with other components. Neither showed signs of deformation or degeneration, which was often the case when the T-virus started acting. It would impregnate the nucleus – the core – and alter its DNA, which resulted in a mutation not only of the cells, but of the host body as a whole.

Additionally to the normal substances in the blood sample there were also virus particles. Contrary to the rather round bloodcells, the T-virions had a small body and many tentacle-like arms that were used to dock onto the host cells.

Only that it didn't dock onto the cells, like it was supposed to. Because there was another organism that shouldn't exist and Birkin vaguely remembered that the serum he had given Wesker had displayed these characteristics. It was very flexible, almost rubber like. When a cell was broken or fragmented for example, it would fuse with it and so recreate the lost partition. A small part of it would then secede itself from the main body and the entire process started again. When the damaged cells were finished with the regeneration of their own, the fragment of the serum would split off again and search for other partners it could bond with. If there weren't any, it died.

And that was the part where the fairytale ended. The serum could only be applied to the organism once, because the second time the host cells would be immune against it and repel the substance, making another employment impossible.

So much about the theory.

What Birkin percieved through the microscope was far off from theory. Infact it was a constellation he had never thought about, but now that it was happening before his eyes it seemed logical.

None of the two alien structures had touched as much as a cell of Wesker's system yet. The serum (it had no real name yet - Birkin had never bothered to assign it one apart from the numerical order all of the experiments obtained) had changed its appearance so that it would match the tentacles of the T-virus and enveloped them like a layer of second skin. That resulted that the virus could not assail the human cells anymore and was in a way rendered innoxious.

In a way, because it wasn't destroyed completely. Everytime a normal cell died (which was a natural process) a fragment of the serum detached itself from the virus tentacle and allowed it to seize the dead cell. The effects of the T-virus, of which one was regeneration of dead tissue, would ressurect it,but before it could enter the nucleus and alter the DNA strings, the serum wrapped itself back around the tentacle and stopped the procedure.

Everything from here on was plain assumption, but right now that was everything he had. Judging by the continued existance of the serum it could only mean that it hadn't yet reacted with Wesker's cells and only bonded with the T-virus. It loosened its grip on the virus whenever the body was endangered or injured, provoking a healing process without directly getting into contact itself.

He figured it must have reacted the same way when Wesker had been impaled by the Tyrant. Whether healing was the only function it allowed the T-virus to perform was questionable. Wesker's aggressiveness might be explained by the virus, since this was another of its characteristics. He didn't want to jump at any conlusions yet, though.

Birkin straightened up, aware of the slight pain in his lower back. How long had he stared into the microscope now? He turned to Wesker, who hadn't moved a muscle since. The look in his eyes had gone. Now they were only eyes, and not demons that glowed in the darkness and gnawed at your sanity.

He began to tell Wesker about his assumptions (Sherry had picked up a line at school and from then on always told him that 'assume makes an ass of u and me', a thought he couldn't shake off as he went on explaining). He told Wesker how the T-virus was kept at bay, and the functionality of the serum in regards of setting free the virions. He even included his thoughts about the possibility of other roles despite the healing. All the time he spoke slowly, making many pauses in between. For one, he wasn't quite sure whether this theory was correct at all and he wanted Wesker to comprehend every detail of it so that, if necessary, he could put in objections or bring forth his own suggestions.

But Wesker only nodded from time to time and brushed over SARS absentmindedly. Birkin was once again thinking of the virus that caused breathing problems. If only their situation was as easy as the SARS virus. This was so much more complex. A multitude of questions popped inside Birkin's mind every few seconds, but they couldn't be answered yet. He would have to test his colleague on various aspects before forming a reasonable opinion.

Wesker's fingers once more trailed over the torn uniform, smearing the wet blood on it. "Your explanation is realistic, exept that you neglected one point, William."

Birkin stared at him, a questioning look in his eyes. Of course, his imagination had probably carried him away at some stage, but his theory still sounded logical. Up to the moment that Wesker posed his question.

"Which will prevail in the end – the virus or your serum? My body alone will never overcome either of them."

* * *

**This chapter was incredibly hard to write. I hope you understood at least a fragment of my explanation of the virus. I wanted to keep it short and simple, but then again I'm writing from Birkin's POV and he's probably thinking in very difficult terms, so I merged those two together.**

**If there are any questions regarding this chapter, don't hesitate to ask them! Wesker might very well forward them to Birkin in the next part, and Birkin will probably have an answer for them, just as he has for every question. g**


	6. Chapter VI

Chapter VI

Wesker's query sounded like the last line of a good novel that made readers crave for more and left the ultimate end for them to decide. This was no novel, but the result was the same. Birkin wanted to turn the page, to find out the answer in the next chapter, but his initial enthusiasm was crushed when he realized that he had already reached the last page and there was no sequel to the story where he might find a solution.

Wesker looked at him sternly and Birkin imagined that he regarded his subordinates at STARS the same way when he was certain that they knew the answer to an obvious question. This was neither simple nor obvious, so Birkin shook his head and shrugged his shoulders in defeat.

"I cannot say yet," he started, "there are so many possibilities. The serum and the virus could outpower one another and in the end both die because they have nothing more to feed from. They could just aswell keep eachother alive by mutual deployment of energy. The virus could win out in the end, in which case I do not have to detail the following events. If the serum takes the upper hand and destroys its counterpart you might be left with too high a quantity of it in your system. It would attach to every cell that naturally dies until it creates such an amount of living cells that the organism won't be able to support them anymore."

He shook his head again, looking at Wesker, "Everything can happen. I would not have thought that the serum and the virions interacted this way, otherwise I would have conducted the necessary experiments beforehand."

Wesker nodded his head and let his gaze sweep across the room. Birkin noticed the sudden change in his eyes again and looked at the dirty windows that let the first rays of sun into the huge warehouse. He wondered whether the light played the same trick on his eyes, but discarded the thought when the STARS commander spoke up.

"You said the serum's effects were only momentary."

"I did. However, your case differs from my hypothesis. I always set out from the point that the serum particles combined with the human cells. That would result in rejection of the serum a second time it is applied and its eventual necrosis. The particles never interacted with your cells. They urged the T-virus to utilize its regenerative effects without exploiting themselves."

"So you say that they only react as a sort of transmitter?"

"More precisely a buffer between the two systems. As long as the human organism functions unproblematicly the serum does not interfere. If, however, the body finds itself in a situation of danger – ranging from everyday stress to mortal injury – it lets lose T-virions that usher a swift enchancement. Be it by regenerative functions, or other roles," he noticed the look in Wesker's eyes and swiftly added, "Of course this is only a theory."

"Thrilling," Wesker said in a dry tone. In a mocking tone.

"Did you…. did you notice anything else?" he asked then. It was strange to see Wesker in this state, but part of Birkin had already switched to researcher-mode as he liked to call it. He asked to the point, drew conclusions and formed an opinion about the situation. The scientific part was taking the upper hand, he knew it, because slowly he began to regard Wesker as something… work-related, rather than about his human self.

The circumstances were unfortunate, but simultaneously they could be the breakthrough the world had waited for. No more decaying bodies, the end of all illnesses – an effective weapon against death itslelf. Wesker was the first, perhaps the most important 'creation' of this process, an invaluable specimen.

"Anything else apart from what?" drew Birkin back to reality. Wesker was being sarcastic. A bad sign, "Apart from being alive when I should be split in two, unfortunate enough not to die from the gaping hole in my stomach and choke on my own blood? I'm sorry, William, I must have been too carried away by the thought of survival to make any notes."

"I'm sorry, I… I forgot the fatality of your situation. Of course, the trauma… but you must remember something? You must surely have felt something?" It was hard to understand this condition when there were so many answers to be found, tests to be made. Wesker was acting incredibly uncooperative. Wasn't it in his own interest to find out more about the unique concotion that was flowing through his veins?

There had never been the opportunity to communicate with the host so well in their line of work. Wesker must understand that this was the chance of a lifetime, a chance they couldn't miss! It might be their only one. Birkin didn't want to think what long term effects the virus and serum had on the STARS commander's brain, taking that the substances wouldn't destroy his nervous system beforehand.

"I felt pain and wet, hot blood. Clammy, sticky liquid in my mouth, in my nose, in my ears. An eviscrating agony in my stomach and spine. The stench of bursted intestines and organs. I tried to keep the mass inside in a futile attempt, because it kept slipping through my fingers. Then; coldness, gloom and the slowly returning scent of corpses. My scent. And everything was back inside, as if someone had pushed the 'back' button on the tape. Raw flesh, muscles, but it was beginning to heal."

Birkin was staring at him wide-eyed. Incredible. The effects… simply breathtaking.

"After that, most was a blur. The carriers on the way out did not attack me. On some subconscious level they might have felt that annihilation was near. I was lucky to react quick enough to deflect both a MA-121 and one of the Chimeras."

"You have the same blood. They did not attack you, because you were one of them. Neither Hunters, nor Chimeras share this compulsion to react differently to infected than other species. It might explain their assault."

"Ms. Wong has certainly informed you about the rest, I assume. She didn't take too well to my appearance."

"No, she didn't. I didn't either, when I first saw you."

"I noticed."

Birkin felt that it was the right time to ask. The tension had eased, after all, "Can I… can I still have a look at your wounds, though?"

Wesker's features stiffened and for a moment Birkin feared that he might have to hug the wall again.

"There is no reason for it. Your serum already did the whole work," he waved at the bag Birkin had brought, "there is no need for this."

"We need to be sure about the tissue reformation. About possible mutations. You know very well that theory often differs from reality. It's not worth taking the risk."

And perhaps that did the trick. The last part of the sentence was spoken by William the friend, not by Birkin the scientist, and even though Wesker had never touched him as the sensual, emotional type he wiped at the uniform a last time – goodbye SARS – and began to unfasten his gear. Tactical vest first.

The uniform under it was just as soaked with crimson, staining almost the entire shirt. Underneath Wesker wore a kevlar vest, and how Birkin soon found out, a very unpractical one. The bulletproof material displayed a hole the size of a football – of a Tyrant's claw – in its middle, leading Birkin to the realization that the Tyrant had truly mustered the force that should have snapped Wesker's spine in two – with ease.

He was wearing an undershirt, but did not take that off. There was no need to either. The gaping hole in the fabric was enough for Birkin to see. He saw the bloodstains (some still wet) and the yellowy goo of the intestines. The odor of the organs, whose escape should have led to Wesker's death, was far more prominent now. It clung to the tacky shirt and the skin.

The skin that should have been torn and shredded, ripped beyond repair. The skin, that should have never kept Wesker's bowels again and protect them from danger. It had given in under the Tyran'ts claw, yet Birkin observed a very intact skin. It was red, like after extreme irritation, and it looked like regenerative tissue after an injury. A wet crust had formed in some places, in others it way drying already and yet in others the only signs of afflication was the fiery red color.

Birkin didn't say anything when Wesker pulled the uniform and vest back over. Partly because he couldn't – he was awestruck, for a lack of better word – partly because he didn't know what to say. 'Nice', 'amazing'; Wesker wouldn't be thrilled by either of them.

"After I sent Ada to retrieve you I entered the warehouse. It might have caught your attention that the lock lay discarded on the floor."

Birkin tried to remember, but his memory was failing him. He had been far too agitated to notice such a negligibility.

"Go on," he urged, pretending he knew.

"It was not there when I entered. It was installed on the door. What force, do you think is necessary to crack a lock?"

Birkin shrugged. What was this, a quiz?

"A late member of STARS could pick it within a few seconds with only a hairpin. A pity to lose such talent. To break the chain, however, that's an entirely different story. Massive iron, one weldseam per piece."

Wesker fished out something from his pocket. Birkin couldn't see it at first, but then he realized what it was and his eyes went wide.

A single chain ring, bent up, and the metal was barely thinner than his finger.

"No effort at all."

* * *

**One of the questions still remaining is the color and shape of Wesker's eyes. I will explain this topic - when its time comes. I think that the virus needs some time to alter his genetics. Wesker has been exposed to it for roughly an hour, if even. There are already traces of the mutation (the occasional glint that Birkin misinterprets as light tricks) but the full effects will only be visible when Wesker needs them. Currently his eyes are good enough for 'human' standards. Once he starts to use the speed and strength, his vision will improve. Better night sight, higher frame rate, etc. **

**On another note: I have created a poll "What story would you like to read next?" It can be found in my profile and there are options of Pre- aswell as PostMansion fics. Decide what you want to read!**


	7. Chapter VII

Chapter VII

Ada Wong regarded the rising sun and the variety of colors it shed on the buildings of Raccoon City, dipping the boring grey into shades of yellow, orange and red.

She took a deep breath and sighed, leaning against the hood of the car. At one point she had given up listening to the two men inside. She had only been able to catch fragments of the conversation and those parts had become more and more complicated to understand, up to the point where she had given it up completely.

Tucking a lose strand of hair behind her ear Ada glanced at the door to the warehouse that stood ajar, but nobody came out. Silence was the only thing that left the building - until suddenly there was a loud crash.

More on impulse – along with a good deal of curiosity - than because of anything else (the logical part of her mind was still certain that the following actions were wrong) Ada opened the door and tentatively placed a step into the warehouse.

It didn't take long to locate the two men and by the looks of it the situation was out of control. Whatever substance made Wesker stand on his feet despite the lethal wounds had taken effect on his mind Ada thought at that moment, because he was pinning the good doctor against the wall and tried to strangle him.

Birkin was trying to free himself from the suffocating grip, but he didn't stand a chance. Perhaps Wesker was too strong, perhaps Birkin was only too paniced and weak to direct his blows to an effective part of the other man's arm.

Ada couldn't say why Wesker was so enraged. She hadn't been able to follow the conversation closely enough to draw conclusions from it, but whatever Birkin had said, Wesker hadn't liked it. She even noticed that he was pinning Birkin to the wall in such a fashion that the doctor's feet didn't touch the ground and was amazed by his hidden powers. With the wounds he bore he shouldn't be able to stand straight, let alone heave another man off his feet.

Perhaps it was an early effect of the T-virus he was apparently infected with. Ever since she had witnessed him running out of the soon-not-to-be-anymore Spencer Mansion and glanced over his injuries Ada had started to consider other motives for his obliviousness to pain despite the shock he certainly suffered under. No matter how shocked, people didn't simply ignore a hole in their stomach, a bullet wound or a head injury so easily. The bloodloss alone – taking that the blood on his uniform and face was his – should have downed him earlier on.

Wesker had cleared her up on the physiological and mental mutations of the T-virus before the incidents at the Training Facility and the Spencer Mansion.

She remembered incapability of restraining one's agression to be one of them. Signs for infection were also decreased sensitivity to pain, itchiness and fever, but from this distance Ada wasn't able to tell either of the latter two. The first two definitely applied and he had had many opportunities to get into direct contact with the virus during the operation.

Moving antother step into the warehouse, Ada felt the reassuring form of her gun. It was tucked in the back of her jeans. After having dropped Birkin off and being ordered out of the hall she had made sure it was fully loaded and easy to reach. Wesker was an attractive man, no doubt, but if he carried this sickness she didn't want a kiss.

The two men's attention was now fixed on her, so she carefully asked, "Is everything alright in here?" and even before she had finished the sentece she felt like the worst idiot ever. Wesker was trying to kill Birkin and she asked whether everything was in order.

_Great move, Ada. You just digged your own grave, girl…_

Perhaps she should have asked whether he needed a helpful hand in the deed, but Wesker seemed to do quite well on his own. When he dropped Birkin and turned towards her, Ada's heart skipped a beat only to go for a new record in speed. Unconciously she backed up a step and her hand was ready to pull out the handgun if Wesker decided a change of victims was in order.

Instead he surprised her with familiar calmness, "I said you should wait outside," and then (she noticed there was a notable strain in his voice), "Wait outside."

It didn't need more to get her going and with a last pityful look at Dr. Birkin, who was visibly relieved that he could breath again, Ada turned around and this time pulled the door closed behind her when exiting.

Outside the first thing she did was letting out a deep breath and thanking whatever arcane forces had watched over her and restrained Wesker from strangling her to death.

Of course, if he had approached and hadn't stopped at her demand, Ada wouldn't have been afraid of dealing him another bullet wound or two, even if at this point that might not matter much anymore. If puncture to the stomach hadn't even weakened him, she doubted that a shot would do any difference.

_Not if you shoot him in the head… he can't possibly survive that._

She had read once that people who were given a small dose of heroine – with the drug having been developed by the army and all – could be shot directly in the chest and don't even feel as much as a scratch. They would keep advancing, because the drug kept them alive. It had been intended to produce super-soldiers in the second world war, but had been discarded quickly for its incredibly fast addiction rate.

Ada wondered whether Wesker's state was similar. Most likely he was no drug addict, but whatever substance Birkin had given him must have had the same prefered effects as heroine, only perfected. Perhaps Birkin had somehow managed to create a super soldier, of whom the scientists in world war II had only dreamt about.

Or perhaps he hadn't.

No, there had to be a flaw in the plan, judging by Wesker's behaviour. Something had gone wrong. Perhaps the price for living was his sanity? Perhaps the substance was addictive and Wesker was already suffering from withdrawal symptoms like a junkie who'd missed his shot.

Perhaps he wasn't even over the brink yet, because at one moment Ada heard Birkin say "You're positive," closely followed by an unbelieving "Impossible."

_So he's infected after all, and despite Birkin's wonder drug he'll turn into one of them eventually…or perhaps it's some other goddamn virus the world doesn't even know about yet. Stop being surprised. Surprise can be your death in your line of work._

She thought again, _no more surprises._

With that out of the way and all logical theories leading to this one result there was only one question left unanswered.

When would he take the crucial step into the world where every ideal and aspiration melded into the one pungent thought of an infected?

_Food. Treasure food above all else, because there is nothing else left to strive for._

She wondered what Wesker was going to do now that he knew the irrevocable truth and whether he would lose his temper once again, or try and take it easy.

_Where the word 'easy' might take on another meaning, because how can you take such a horrible fate easy?_

Even though Ada regarded Wesker as a reckless man, a liar, a traitor and a killer – all of which were true and not just her personal views – she did wonder whether this was the retribution for his past actions.

No more echoes reached her ears from inside the warehouse and Ada guessed that this silence could only mean that Wesker tried to realize what his near future would bring and Birkin praying that he would live to see another day.

Ada however didn't need anymore time to think about the future. She wasn't going to kick the bucket today and if it had to be, she would make sure that the danger Wesker now posed would be eliminated for sure. The virus had caused inconceivable damage in a relatively controlled area, she didn't want to start imagining what it would do to a town like Raccoon City if the pathogen had survived with the STARS commander.

This way, their deal would finally end and Ada would be free of his tyranny at long last.

She walked to the SUV and opened the driver's door.

And nearly chocked on the pungent smell that greeted her. Pulling away at once Ada searched for the root of the odor and soon found it in the huge bloodstains that had turned the backseats from a relatively light grey into an almost black crimson. They roughly traced the form of Wesker's body with a darker spot where his lower back must have been. Which could only mean that the hole in the front of his stomach had gone all way through.

_And he survived that? Ah, but no more surprises…you should have expected it._

Apparently blood was not the only thing staining the material, because the smell reminded Ada of cut open guts and corpses. In some areas the dark blotches showed lighter spots. Pus?

Ada regarded the sight from outside the vehicle a moment longer, before enough fresh air had driven away at least the worst of the smell. Reaching into the car she was about to check over the inventory when a click from behind caught her attention.

It was a click of a door being opened, and the following croaking of rusty edges affirmed her guess.

"You are leaving so soon already, Ms. Wong?"

A chill ran down her spine as if somebody had thrown a bucket of cold water on her. Ada swept around, meeting the gaze of a very much alive STARS captain and the Umbrella scientist that stood beside him.

_- must have seen the gun -_

"Just checking the traffic news," she said with lightness that was in fact very much strained. Her right hand placed on her hip Ada was ready to do the deed if it was necessary.

Wesker and Birkin stood in the doorway of the warehouse, Birkin slightly behind the other man. Wesker's glance was unreadable even despite his shades' absence. Only his eyes had a clear 'don't do anything stupid now' warning to them. Ada had never thought that she would be able to read anything in the man's eyes, but this was enough to make her right hand hang casually by her side and put up the faintest of smiles.

"Then I assume you can do Dr. Birkin a favour and drive him back to the Raccoon Laboratory."

Ada glanced at Birkin, but he remained silent during the discussion. Drive him home? Wesker was infected, wasn't he? Did he really think he could go around and spread the virus just like that?

He seemed to notice her uncertainty, "There is no need to worry, Ada. Everything has been taken care of."

At that moment Birkin looked to the ground, as if ashamed of something and Ada wasn't at all sure whether everything was alright.

"But he said you're positive," she answered flatly. Both Wesker and Birkin tensed visibly at her accusation. She'd blown up her cover. But somebody had to point it out.

There was a moment of awkard silence where everything could have happened. Ada could have drawn her weapon and shoot Wesker at point blank. He could have simply ignored the missing chunk of flesh and bone and advance on her, breaking her neck. He could have gone berserk and the virus spred in Raccoon City, dooming the little town and its oblivious inhabitants.

None of that happened. Instead,

"You've been eavesdropping?"

"Just picking up a thing or two, good ears you know," she flashed him a smile. His gaze remained stern. Birkin showed traces of panic.

"I see," she couldn't see any bandages around his torso or head, just the clotting blood. _He must be infected, there's no other way…_

"This is confidential information, Miss Wong," Ada tensed. He only adressed her with her surname if things were grave. "I trust you realize this."

She prepared for a 'Now that you know it I have to kill you' line, but perhaps Wesker had seen enough death for today.

"It would be better if you don't forget that detail."

Ada nodded her head slowly. Her hand reached behind. He couldn't possibly expect the matter to be resolved with this..

"I fear I haven't made myself clear," and with that he was infront of her faster than possible. She could feel his breath on her skin, but more importantly his steely grip on her arm. He pulled her close to him, to the metallic scent of blood and with his other hand reached behind her and retreived the handgun.

Ada gulped, focused and kicked him in the shin with as much force as she could muster. Wesker hissed, but didn't budge. Instead he twisted her arm painfully and the next moment she felt the cold metal against the side of her temple.

"No such games. Do we understand eachother?"

She nodded.

"I didn't hear you," the grip on her arm became painful.

"We understand eachother," she said hastily, but not in a defeated tone. Never show weakness; acceptance, but not weakness.

The gun was thrown away behind them, landed at Birkin's feet, its clip making it halfway the distance.

Over Wesker's shoulder Ada could see the look on the doctor's face. He looked pale, almost sickly. Wesker took a step back, losening his grip. Her arm was red and sore, but if he had wanted to he could have broken it, she was sure.

"Come William," he called, but didn't turn around. The doctor followed his orders. He'd experienced himself what it felt like to contradict Wesker and apparently didn't want to relive it.

Wesker opened the backdoor of the SUV, motioning for Birkin to get in.

"I will contact you," he told the researcher flatly, then turning to Ada, "both of you."

Birkin entered the car without another word and she did the same. Wesker shut the back door, took a step back and waited for Ada to turn on the engine. She turned the keys and the SUV started on.

Hitting the gas, the vehicle set into motion. Ada kept glancing into the rearview mirror at the man who should be dead. The sun rose behind him, so that she could mostly only make out his outlines.

When they were a little distance away and Wesker had dwindled to a small dapple between the big buildings around him the light played the funny trick on his eyes again and she thought to see them glow for a split second, before the STARS commander faded out of view completely.

Her eyes then locked on the face of Birkin that was so pale one could assume he had contracted the virus. He looked up.

"The name's Ada Wong, by the way," she said.

"William. Dr. William Birkin," he introduced himself.

Ada had the odd feeling that this wasn't the last time the two of them would have to work together…

_**

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Caterpillar_: Who are YOU?_

_**Alice:** I__-- I hardly know, sir, just at present -- at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then._

_- Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, by Lewis Carroll_

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THE END

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**Ada's views on the virus/serum concotion are… well, her own views and assumptions. They might contradict to information of earlier chapters, so that's why I'm saying it here again. Everything is speculation, since this is the only thing they have at the moment.**

**And now: A huge thank you to all people who read and reviewd this story! I had a blast writing it, and I hope you enjoyed it just as much!**

**Due to popular demand in the poll, I will continue the series, rather than go back before the Mansion. The new story will include the events occuring between RE1 and RE2, featuring Wesker, Ada and Birkin.**

A little preview:

**dum fortuna fuit  
**_while fortune lasted  
_Wesker finds out more about the virus, while Birkin realizes the threat Umbrella poses to his research. In the end Wesker learns to handle his powers and Birkin takes a decision that leads to an entire city's destruction.**  
**


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